


A Good Kind of Pain

by s_k_apegoat



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Blood, Body mutilation, Gore, M/M, Murder, Violence, slippery sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k_apegoat/pseuds/s_k_apegoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tristan decides to pay Mr.March a little visit. And of course it's more polite to bring a gift. One that, he hopes, will be able to prompt the spirit into teaching him a thing or two... Or will the master become the student in this little rendezvous?</p><p> </p><p>Gory.Bloody.Sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A Good Kind of Pain  
  
  
The couple fumbled into Room 64 in a mess of groping and grunts, Tristan not at all surprised that the door was unlocked. He was more pleased at the fact, to be honest. The jazz music playing from an unseen gramophone like the first time he was here was pretty much an invitation, if he could say so himself.

The brunette whore groped him a little too hard, and he hissed in annoyance, before slamming the door shut with a leg whilst keeping the woman’s hands away from his crotch.  
The air was stale in the room. The ceiling fan doing very little to keep the air flowing. Vampires needed to breathe too, okay. The stuffiness of the room was already getting to his nerves. That, accompanied by the insistent, over-dramatic moaning the woman was displaying irritated Tristan even further.  
Not being able to stand her groping anymore, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kept her at length. “What’s wrong?” she cooed, “You don’t seem really into this..?” Hesitation creeping into her voice when she found her ‘client’ glaring at her with those hypnotic blue eyes of his.

“Oh. I’m going to… In a while.” He smirked to himself as he dove in for a teasing bite at the woman’s neck, wrenching a pleasured moan from her throat. She didn’t even have time to ask what he found so funny before the thought was whisked from her mind.

The dust that exploded into the stale air as their bodies hit the mattress didn’t bother either of them, the woman drowning in the sensation of Tristan’s hot mouth accompanied by his unusually cool skin. He clawed at her clothes, ripping the fabric away until she was clad in nothing but her panties. Dragging his nails against her soft skin as he ravaged her breasts with tongue and teeth, the scent of her arousal was growing stronger by the minute, and so was Tristan's hunger. Damn, maybe he should've taken that other whore as well.

Where the hell was the bastard? If he takes any longer to show up Tristan was sure he was going to drain the bitch right here and now. In his frustration, he bites a little too hard and the woman lets out a surprised yelp.

“What, are you, doing?”

The woman under him froze, but Tristan felt an electrifying tingle travel from his toes to his head at the drawl of the man’s voice, and he held back a shudder. Leaning back on his haunches, keeping his weight on the woman’s thighs so she couldn’t run away, he twisted his head back with a toothy grin, finding March sitting on one of the armchairs opposite the bed, the smoke from his pipe-smoking dancing around his form as he glared right back into the vampire’s eyes. He was sitting with his legs crossed, slightly lounging, but Tristan could tell March was irked.

“Hey, man.” The younger male grinned, “Just thought I’d pay you a visit, y’know?”

“I don’t like prostitutes in my hotel.” March drawled, “Much less in my room.”  
The woman starts squirming under Tristan, “Uh.. I think I’ll just… G-go.” She is ignored by both men, but that did not deter her attempts at wriggling out from under the model.

“Aw, man. That’s not nice.” He gives a little pout, “I mean, yeah, she’s a whore but you didn’t have to say that.” Tristan turned his attention back to the woman beneath him, “There’s no shame in promiscuity, is there?” He purred, smacking a hand lightly against her cheek. His fingers caught a single tear that slipped, and bringing his hand up to his mouth, he licked the wetness away. Smirking, he assured her, “Save those tears for later, darling. Because you’re gonna be crying _so_ hard for us.” The woman could not hold in her quiet whimper of fear.

Tristan twisted his head to face March once more, the older man continued puffing on his pipe, eyes narrowed, suspicious of what the newly turned vampire was up to.  
“Come on, man. Stop looking at me like that! I told you, I’m a fan. Just wanna do you good.” He purposely drawls out the word ‘good’. “This…” He explains as he turns himself around to position himself near the quietly sobbing woman’s head, a hand and a gleaming flick knife at her throat. He has his ass in the air, lean body arched, poised like a cat over its prey. “…Consider this… A gift.”

March raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, “A gift, you say?” He contemplates as streams of smoke danced around his form, the only sound that’s still audible in the room being the whore’s quiet sobbing. The younger male grins when March unfolds his legs and stands up, inhaling from his pipe once more as he approached the foot of the double bed. His new position at the foot of the bed forced Tristan to crane his neck in order to gaze up at the spirit, and he could practically smell the building excitement rolling off of the other.

“I don’t like to be rude.” March declares, cocking his head a little to the side, an almost innocent, blank expression on his face, “Which is what I would be if I refused a generous gift.” He was gazing into the eyes of the horrified woman at this point, and for some reason, his gaze managed to still the woman’s squirming.

“And do you know the best part about gifts?” March grinned, anticipation gleaming in his beady eyes as he directed the question at both the woman and the vampire. “ _Unwrapping_ it.” 


	2. Chapter 2

A little smile spreads across March’s face as he runs two fingers up the whore’s left thigh. Ah, the warmth of living flesh. It always gives him a little rush, the first touch. It didn’t matter if it was a man, or woman… Just that heat felt through the mere touch of his fingertips made him crave for more. More of the heat, the lifeblood; To have his hands covered in it, his whole being drenched in it, the coppery, sickly sweet smell of freshly let blood…   
The previous hotel owner was apparently too pre-occupied with his fantasy to realize the woman had retracted her leg far enough to aim a kick at him, and March had only avoided the attack in time out of luck, chuckling as he did. The unforeseen attempt of self-defense from the woman causing March’s smoking pipe to fall to the carpeted floor.  
Tristan was almost disappointed. He did, after all, want to know how solid and physically _there_ this James March actually was. But he shrugged it off.

The whole scene was almost funny, Tristan thought, how he had the woman’s neck in his grip, whilst March had one of her legs in his, the gramophone continuing to croon scratchy yet somewhat cheerful notes.

“Let her go.” The older male crooned, softening his voice to lull his prey into a sense of false assurance. “What?” Tristan didn’t physically respond to the command immediately, which had March rolling his eyes. “She’s a gift for _me_ , isn’t she?”

“Well, yeah…But I..”

“Then do as I say, let, her, go.”

Tristan had intended to express that he planned to drain the woman of her lifeblood after March had had his fun with her, but it seems March was intent on keeping his new temporary toy to himself. The selfish ass. Looks like Tristan would be going hungry for now.   
With a defeated sigh and some almost inaudible grumbling, the vampire released his grip on the woman’s throat. And without a moment’s hesitation, the woman leaps from her lying position to cower against March’s chest, muttering thank yous as she clings to him for dear life. How different would her reaction be if she only knew that James March was the more deadly of the two men currently in the room?

March was slightly taken back for a moment, before he raises his hands to cradle the woman’s cheek in a surprisingly gentle manner, almost loving, thumbing fat droplets of tears away from the reddened cheeks.

“Shh,now. All will be well as long as you do as I ask.”

He guides and allows the woman to lean into the crook of his neck, her sniffling now slightly muted as she continues to sob, her body visibly shaking as she clutches onto James March as though he was her lifeline in this strange turn of events.

Tristan is lying on his side, one elbow propping up his head as he watched on in a rather bored manner. He’d lost his meal, for one, and the current show was a lot less exhilarating than he had expected. He was trying hard not to yawn at this point.

As March continues to coddle the woman, he peers up and catches the young vampire’s eyes, those thin lips of his curling up into a cruel smile. His movements were slow, as he reaches one hand behind to bring out something from his back pocket. The woman does not realize this, but the experienced killer was now in possession of a small, closed pocket knife, clutched in his right hand. His left, was stroking the back of the woman’s head.

The metallic click that sounded from the knife flicking open, caused the woman to tense, her breath audibly hitching as she took in a sharp breath. The gleam of the knife catching the moonlight from the window behind March reflected the gleam in Tristan’s icy eyes, which widened slightly at the introduction of the weapon. His grin now mirrored that of James March’s, his body now tense and poised, eagerly anticipating what the murder master would do next.

With his left hand, March keeps the once again struggling woman still, practically crushing her to his own body. With no room to slip her arms between them in order to push the man away, the prostitute reverts to clawing at March’s back in an attempt to get him off her.   
He hisses a little, before letting out an amused chuckle, “Ooh. Feisty one, are you?” The question only made her more frantic. “My dear, we haven’t even _started_. ”

With quick precision, March brings his armed hand down, the thin metal slicing a clean, deep strip down the woman’s exposed back. The attack was so fast, the victim hardly felt her skin split open. It still had her mouth gaping wide open in shock, before she realized what was happening and a shrill scream erupted from her throat. By now, the man who had fooled her had brought his hand down for another slice, and another, and another. It was still too fast for the woman to feel much pain, except the searing sting of interior flesh being exposed to air, the same air she was now choking on as she felt her body’s precious liquid flow down her back like a waterfall.

To the vampire, she looked like a chocolate fondue fountain. He could not tear his eyes away from the slices in her back, 4 cuts that pieced together an “M”. Crimson gushing from the crevices, down her curved back, those rounded buttocks, and down her meaty thighs, staining the bedsheets beneath her in a gradually expanding pool of red. The more she struggled, the more blood flowed.

Tristan’s mouth felt dry, himself not even realizing that his mouth had begun to slightly hang open as soon as March delivered the first cut. He swallowed thickly, the action doing little to quell his growing hunger. Feeling he was being watched. He instinctively turned his attention to March’s face, to find the older man watching for his reaction, his gaze boring into him, and Tristan recoiled a little at the intensity of March’s gaze.

“M, for March.” James sneered. He throws the knife onto the bed, and adjusts his grip on the woman to now keep her in a chokehold. It shut her up, at least, as she shifts her focus to maintaining her intake of air instead of attacking March.  
  
“My dear boy, you look _starved_.” Tristan manages not to nod his head in frantic agreement. He watches as March runs his free right hand down the woman’s back, smearing the cooling blood over the soft, ivory skin, and eventually even digging his fingers into the cuts, successfully wrenching a gurgling scream from the prostitute.

March raises his bloodied red hand to eye-level, sighing contentedly, “Warm…So warm.” He muses, “Almost makes me feel alive again.”

He hadn’t noticed that Tristan had moved from his lazing to position himself behind the woman. Her panties were briefly ripped from her, which had her emit a surprised yelp. And without warning, he slammed into her and impaled her deep with his cock from behind, a choked sob escaping the model as he did. Not that he was going to admit it out loud, but watching March work those talented hands had him turned on and harder than he’d been in a while. Not even the Countess elicited such a powerful sexual reaction from him, and he shuddered, attempting to keep himself in composure before he began pistoning his hips. He wanted this to last.

“And here I thought this gift was for _me_.” March chastised with amusement in his voice, clicking his tongue, as Tristan repeatedly rammed into the woman, mouth agape and panting as he relished in the joys of the flesh. He almost forgot how hungry he was, until the woman’s bloodied back swam back into focus, and he dove his head to lick a stripe of that coppery sweetness. Moaning obscenely out loud as the stickiness travelled down his throat.

James March watched with much interest at the younger fellow’s antics, but he felt something inside of him jump when Tristan began lapping up the blood. It couldn’t have been his heart, because his heart beats no more. Yet, he felt a desire come into life in him, one, he felt, could not be sated with the mere taking of a life this time.

Out of curiosity to see how the younger man would react, March continues keeping his chokehold on the woman, but reaches out with his bloodied hand to grip Tristan’s chiseled chin to stop him from feeding for now. It evoked a snarl from the vampire, like a dog being denied its meal when it was right in front of him. James let go almost immediately when Tristan calmed down, his pounding of the woman slowing as March purposely made a show of trailing his hands down the woman’s back again, soaking his hands in more blood, before bringing it back up to Tristan’s face in an almost taunting manner.


End file.
